Hanging In

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Today let’s talk a little bit about hanging in there. A few years ago, I got to the Chicago Botanic Garden just in time to see the crab apple trees in full bloom. As an aside, it’s such an ugly name for such a beautiful tree, but that’s not my point.

Ever since then, every spring, I head to the Garden with the hope of catching that ephemeral moment when the branches are explosions of petals, enough to weave a tapestry above your head. And every year since I’ve missed it.

Until this year.

This year, for three weeks running, I went out to the Garden in all kinds of weather. It was cold and it was windy; one weekend it was sunny and packed to the gills; and then this week, it was freezing. But I didn’t care. When I got to the path by the lake at the back, there they were, the trees in full spring glory. My camera and I were very happy.

And here’s the truth. I nearly didn’t go. It was cold, and not just chilly, after the nearly 80 degrees the day before, the temperature dropped 30 degrees. But I knew that after checking and checking, this would be the week.

It was so worth it. The beauty of them, all lined up along the path, was magical. Soon this forest of white and pink petals will be nothing but lush, verdant green, and it’s difficult to imagine that complete transformation.